


The Morning After

by Amorfati32



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 08:14:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13231686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorfati32/pseuds/Amorfati32
Summary: Mulder and Scully recover from the Lazarus Bowl premiere.





	The Morning After

Mulder was having a dream, the best of dreams. It was a hot summer’s day, he and Scully were in the office, discussing their latest case when suddenly the heat became too much for his partner. Without breaking off their conversation she began to unbutton her white-colored blouse to reveal the lacy black bra underneath. Well aware that Mulder’s gaze was now fixed firmly on her breasts, Scully rose from her chair then slowly unzipped her pencil skirt and removed it, giving her partner an impressive view of her ass. As Mulder loosened his tie, the temperature in the room hot in so many ways, Scully removed her panties, sat back down in her chair, spread her legs and then -

The slam of a door woke Mulder with a jolt, and he sat up in bed with a start, immediately regretting the action. It took him a few moments for the room to stop spinning and for him to realize exactly where he was. California. Hollywood to be precise. It had been the premiere of the Lazarus Bowl, and after walking out midway through the movie, Mulder and Scully had spent a night out on the town. And then some. They’d finally made it back to their motel in the early hours of the morning, barely making it inside the door before Mulder was thrusting into his partner, and then finally, when sated, they’d made it to the bathtub, camping out in there with a bottle of champagne that a drunken Mulder had charged to Skinner’s room. When their skin was wrinkled and the water cooled, they’d dried one another quickly, before falling into bed and passing out. But now only Mulder remained. 

He looked around the room, realizing for the first time since they’d got back to the hotel that they were in fact in Scully’s room. Her dress sat rumpled on the carpet, her bra by the nightstand, and god knows where her panties were. They’d have to look for them later. Spotting a glass of water on the side, Mulder reached over to take a sip, in a bid to freshen his mouth and try and clear his head. He was too old for this, he thought to himself. He barely drank when he was at home, and his body wasn’t used to this much alcohol, the hangover already setting in, despite the fact he had a feeling he was still drunk. 

As he set the glass back down, Mulder suddenly heard sounds coming from the bathroom. Taking a -deep breath, he carefully edged out of the bed, wobbling slightly as he stood. Yes, still a little drunk. Realizing Scully was in the bathroom he edged closer, his pace quickening when he recognized the sound of retching. 

“Scully?”

He knocked on the door and then entered the bathroom to find his partner, dressed in his shirt from the previous evening, slumped over the toilet as she reacquainted herself with the food and drink they’d consumed on the Bureau’s expense. What a waste, he thought, stifling the giggle that threatened to emerge. Definitely still drunk. Thankfully practical Mulder took over, and he padded over to Scully’s side. He fell to his knees beside her, immediately regretting the action. Sudden movement wasn’t good. 

His partner said nothing of course, her body preoccupied with vomiting, and he noticed she’d managed to soil the arm of his shirt, and a little of the floor too. He’d worry about that later. Despite the fact he now felt pretty nauseous himself, Mulder focused on Scully, smoothing her hair back away from her face and then gently rubbing her back. “S’ok,” he said, the volume of his voice surprising them both. “You’re ok.”

Scully sat back briefly in order to flush the toilet. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she glared over at him. “You’re not sick?”

Resisting the urge to smile, Mulder busied himself by grabbing hold of the edge of the bathtub and getting to his feet, and then reaching for a washcloth on the side and wetting it. He returned to Scully’s side, gently (to him) wiping her face with it. “Nope.”

“It must have been the…” Scully paused, closing her eyes as another wave of nausea threatened to overcome her. “…the chicken.” She’d barely gotten the words out when she leaned back over the toilet and promptly threw up once more.

“The chicken?” Wrapping his arms around her, Mulder murmured soothingly into her ear. “It’s ok honey, it’s ok.”

“Mulder you’re hurting me.” 

“Sorry.” He pulled away, slumping against the tub. 

“The chicken, it must be…must be food poisoning.” She gestured to the washcloth and Mulder set about dampening it for her once again. “I knew that diner looked dodgy.”

“Scully we both had the chicken.” 

She ignored him. “I didn’t think mine looked right. I should have said something but…oh god.” She turned and threw up yet again, her body unwilling to give her a break.

Mulder tried to be as sympathetic as possible, but the situation, coupled with the level of alcohol still in his system, was incredibly amusing to him. “It wasn’t the chicken,” he said with a grin, thankful that Scully’s attention was elsewhere. “I think it may have been the two bottles of champagne we had…” He tried to recall the previous evening. “And the vodka shots you insisted on.”

“No I…no I didn’t,” she replied through heaves.

“I think there may have been a beer involved somewhere too. And I have a receipt somewhere for a whisky and coke.”

“Oh god…”

“So…” He returned to her side and resumed rubbing her back. “Sweetheart, I think you’ll find it’s the alcohol, not the chicken.”

“Sweetheart?” Another glare. He grinned sheepishly. “Are you still drunk?”

“I think there’s a slight possibility I might be a little inebriated.”

“Why are you not sick?”

“You’re forgetting that not only did I outweigh you by several pounds, but I also stopped declined that second round of shots.”

“I hate you.” Her body finally spent, Scully relaxed into her partner’s arms. 

“I know. But on the plus side I do recall some pretty amazing sex last night.”

Scully thought for a moment, then shook her head, closing her eyes immediately, regretting the movement. “We did?”

“You don’t remember?” He had to admit he was a little disappointed in that. “Tell you what, let’s do a repeat performance later tonight.”

“I’m never drinking again.”

“I’ve said something similar before and it never works like that, believe me.”

He stood once more, holding a hand out to her. “Are you done?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, but took hold of his hand anyway and let him pull her to her feet. She waited while Mulder grabbed a glass from the counter and filled it with water, before placing his other hand on the small of her back and guiding her back out to the bedroom. He helped her back into the bed, handing her the fresh glass of water to sip while he hurried back to the bathroom to clean up and turn out the light on his way out. “Ow!” he exclaimed as he bumped his shoulder against the doorframe, his spatial awareness impacted by the level of alcohol still in his system. Scully said nothing, either having not registered what happened or simply not bothering to respond. 

When Mulder finally made it back to bed, Scully was tucked up beneath the comforter with her eyes closed, taking measured breaths. “You ok?”

“I hate you.”

“You’re the one who got vomit down my shirt.”

“This is all your fault.”

“You vomited on the bathroom floor too. It’s ok though, I love you and there’s no one else’s vomit I’d rather clean up.”

Despite herself, Scully laughed. “You’re drunk.”

“I prefer the term “well-oiled.””

“Get into bed Mulder.”

He did as she said, crawling in beside her and carefully wrapping an arm around her. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I just vomited up every vital organ.”

“Poor baby.”

“Shut up with the endearments. And stop showing off, just because you feel fine…”

“What can I say Scully, I can handle my drink.”

“Famous last words.”

“I’m never sick Scully, ever.” Of course, his head was pounding, but he wasn’t about to let on. “Go to sleep. If you think you’re going to be sick again wake me, ok?”

“Kay…” He waited for his partner to continue speaking, but when he looked down at her he noticed she’d already fallen asleep. No change there. Shifting in the bed, Mulder closed his eyes in a bid to fall back to sleep and continue his dream. Hopefully Scully was feeling better now, he thought to himself, and wouldn’t wake for a while.

As it turned out, he was the one who woke her, barely an hour later. It turned out that he couldn’t handle his alcohol either.


End file.
